


Introductory Physics I

by Hunter101



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, Awkward reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Medium Burn, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader is a University Student, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Sans is a University Student, There will be actual non-romantic plot, Unreliable Narrator, eventually, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunter101/pseuds/Hunter101
Summary: Sans, still fearing a reset, is pushed by his friends into getting his degree accredited at a human university. Maybe he's only a little bitter about the fact that he has to take an introductory course.You, already almost finished with your English degree, think it's a good idea to take a physics class. Might as well cover all your bases, right?You both may have made a mistake.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 61
Kudos: 143





	1. the project

You are going to lose your mind.

Is your mom really suggesting what you think she is, after the disaster of the last date she sent you on? You know she means well, but you’re getting tired of her setting you up with people you barely know as if you’re incapable of finding a boyfriend yourself. Which you definitely aren’t, by the way! You’re just… busy with school. Yeah.

“What do you think, honey? You guys sound like you’d get along!” She says, voice cheerful with only a tiny hint of underlying desperation.

What do you even say? Of course, you don’t want to go out with another one of your mom’s weird boyfriend-candidates, but you don’t exactly want to refuse, either. Maybe you could just pretend you’re already dating somebody? It’s not like she’s going to look into it too hard, and you could really use a break from your mom’s nagging.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s great, but I’m kind of already talking to someone right now.” You say, attempting to sound disinterested. You hope she gets the message that you don’t really want to talk about this anymore.

Before you can think of some way to veer the conversation away from dating, your mom starts to talk, and she actually sounds happy. “Wow, that’s amazing! What’s he like?”

And now you’re starting to think this might not have been the best idea. Why didn’t you just tell her you were busy? Quick, you need to think of something!

“Uh… he’s in one of my classes.” You wince. How much vaguer can you get? She probably doesn’t even believe you.

She sounds like she’s about to ask more about your nonexistent boyfriend before you hear her oven make a noise.

She sighs. “Alright, tell me if you guys get together. Your father and I will have you both over for dinner.” She sounds disappointed, but still happy, and you’re already starting to feel bad about lying to her.

You’re debating coming clean before this gets worse, but she’s already saying goodbye, and next thing you know you’re staring at the end call screen. Why’d you even think that was a good idea? Now your mom is going to be even more disappointed when you have to tell her ‘Yes, I was actually sad and desperate enough to make up a fake love interest so you would leave me alone’.

Whatever. You figure you can just say that it didn’t work out if it comes up, anyway.

As you continue to pick apart the awkward conversation in your head, the mention of your classes reminds you that you might actually have schoolwork to finish, and you quickly pull out your laptop.

You open the group for Introductory Physics and see that your teacher just recently posted a new assignment. You open up the assignment briefing, and once again remember why this is your least favorite class. Why did you think taking physics was a good idea, again? You end up reading the same line four times, before deciding to go make yourself a coffee.

You open your bedroom door and peek into your living room, before fully pushing it open. You can usually hear your roommate around this time, but you figure he must just be sleeping or something. You walk over to the counter, turn on the kettle and wait for the water to boil. Unfortunately, being a University student means you can only afford the crappy brand of instant coffee.

You pour yourself a nice serving of boiling water, before opening the disgusting brown package and pouring your coffee-dust into the mug. You decide to be lavish and actually put some milk in your coffee, and after making sure it’s not expired, you add it in. Grabbing your mug and going back into your room, you open up the assignment again and actually focus on what you’re reading.

Finally getting to the bottom, you’re surprised to see that you will be doing this assignment with a partner. Is that a thing you even do in university? You don’t remember the last time you did a partner assignment, and you certainly don’t know anybody in your class well enough to ask them to be with you. You debate the feasibility of just not doing the assignment, but you don’t think you’ll be passing the class if you get a zero.

Great. You pull out your phone to check if you’ve saved any of your classmate’s numbers. Maybe somebody will take pity on you despite your awkward bumbling and sub-par understanding of physics. You find the number from some guy you’ve barely talked to, and open a new conversation.

Before you can start the five minutes required to convince yourself to ask somebody you barely know for a favor, you look over at your computer and see you have a new email on your school account. You barely look at the sender before opening it.

‘hey. want to be my partner for the sound waves assignment?’

You look back at the sender’s address, confirming that you’ve never actually talked to this person before. Well, at least someone is willing to work with you. You aren’t sure if having a partner that types in all lowercase on their school email is a good idea, but your options are limited, and you figure you should take what you can get.

After you quickly type out your confirmation and add them to your shared document, you get to work. A few minutes later, you see them access the document and start doing a section you aren’t working on right now.

You’re just finishing up the part you’re working on when you notice that your partner has done nearly triple the work you’ve done so far, and you’re starting to think that maybe you lucked out. You scroll down to where they’re working. They continue typing away, and you realize that maybe you should get back to work before they just finish it all themselves.

After working for an hour or two more, you’re pretty sure you’ve done enough work for the night. You scroll down again to look at what your partner is doing- Yeah, they still did like triple the work you did. You kind of feel bad, but it’s not your fault they offered to pair with you.

You watch them type for a minute or two before you realize you’re zoning out and shut off your laptop. You guess you didn’t have enough coffee, because it’s only late afternoon, and you’re already feeling exhaustion creep into the edges of your mind.

You figure you could catch up on a few hours of sleep, so you go ahead and get comfortable on your bed and close your eyes. Your last thoughts before you fall asleep are of the properties of sound waves and how to calculate the speed of sound in various mediums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written much in a while, so forgive me if there are any mistakes. If you have any criticisms, I'd love to hear them in the comments. 
> 
> The next chapter will be out in a few days.


	2. the blunder

You wake up with your head pounding and open your eyes. Gods, how long did you sleep? You feel like you were hit by a truck. You roll over, grab your phone, and turn it on. The screen activates, and you wince and turn down the brightness. It’s still before noon, but you almost slept for twelve hours. What else are weekends for?

You roll out of bed, throw on some clothes, and peek into your living room. Your roommate is once again nowhere to be found, so you cross the carpet and enter the bathroom. You brush your teeth and get into the shower. 

As the warm water runs down your back, you think about your responsibilities for the day. As you learned last night, you are mostly caught up on school-work, give or take. You guess you could do some more of the physics assignment, but that isn’t due for a while.

You might have to go grocery shopping, assuming your roommate forgot, again. Originally, you were supposed to switch who goes shopping every week, but your roommate has been really busy lately, so you’ve done it the last few times.

As you soap yourself up, you get your mental shopping checklist in order. You’re pretty sure you might still have eggs, but you’ll definitely have to check the fridge for multiple things.

The water starts to run cold, so you turn off the shower and start to dry yourself off. You put your clothes on and exit the bathroom, hair haphazardly wrapped in a towel.

You walk over to the fridge and are surprised when you find that your roommate actually  _ did _ go shopping. He must have done it after you fell asleep because you don’t remember seeing this much stuff in here when you made your coffee last night. Now that you’re looking around, you do notice his coat hung over the chair, as well.

With your only real goal for the day already complete, you resign yourself to a few more hours of working on your physics assignment. Going back into your room, you sit back on your bed and pull out your laptop. You open the shared document and scroll to the bottom of the page. Wait, what the hell? You check the version history and sure enough, your partner pretty much just worked for like 5 hours straight and finished the whole thing!

You’re caught in a strange state between disbelief and amusement until you scroll up, and it’s quickly replaced with embarrassment and indignation. They pretty much re-did your whole section! You wouldn’t fool anybody trying to pretend like you’re any good at physics, but there’s no way it was so bad to warrant them doing the whole thing from scratch!

You’re suddenly wondering who this person is, thinking they can just re-do all your work without even asking you. How are you even supposed to learn anything if they don’t tell you what you did wrong? 

You go back to your email conversation and look at the sender’s name. What kind of name is ‘Sans Snowdin’, anyway? You’re in the process of typing him a very strong worded email about partner-etiquette and respect when you become curious about who he actually is. 

You’re sure you haven’t met him before, as your class isn’t very big and you think you would have remembered somebody named ‘Sans’. You decide to look him up on social media.

At first, you don’t think you’ve found anything, but a few results down you find a profile just named ‘sans’ on some weird social media site called UnderNet.

It’s a simple profile with just his name, a stupid icon of some meme, and a single picture. It’s of two skeletons -- monsters, you think -- and it’s unclear which one is Sans. You really don’t think this is even him, and now that you’ve started to calm down, your indignation is just replaced with more embarrassment. 

Are you really so bad at physics that your assignment partner had to do all your work for you? The worst part is that you actually tried, and you thought it was somewhat decent. The good news is that you’ll probably get a decent grade because he left your name on the sections he re-did.

You go back to the email you’re writing and replace your harsh words with a short email thanking him for finishing the project and for fixing the mistakes you made, just so he knows there are no hard feelings. You’re still a little mad, but you figure you really shouldn’t be complaining. You just wish he could’ve told you what you did wrong.

Still feeling glum, you open your phone to check the time. It’s only just a little after lunchtime, and everything you had planned to do today has already been finished by someone else. It’s probably not the worst problem to have, but you find yourself closer and closer to just giving up on doing anything productive and just watching YouTube all day.

You feel your stomach rumble, and you decide to go eat some lunch.

You crack open your door and peek into the living room. Surprisingly, your roommate is actually sitting on the couch. You push the door fully open and step into the living room. You awkwardly wave at him, and he finally seems to notice you’re here.

He grins. “Oh, hey! Did you see I actually went shopping this week?”

“Oh yes, It’s always such a treat when you don’t force me to take care of your responsibilities.” You say, trying to make sure he knows you’re just joking around. He laughs, and you find yourself smiling, too.

You walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. Once again looking at all the food, you make sure to actually thank him, and he tells you not to worry about it. You pull out some bread and start making yourself a sandwich. You’re in the middle of making the particularly difficult decision of what type of cheese to use when your roommate’s phone starts ringing.

Hearing only one side of the conversation, It’s hard to tell exactly what the phone call is about. After a minute or two of clipped, stiff conversation, he hops up and starts putting on his coat.

“Alright, I have to leave. Don’t burn the building down when I’m gone.” He says. His voice is laced with annoyance, but he’s still grinning. You notice he looks more tired than usual.

You still aren’t exactly sure where he runs off to during the day, but you’re thinking either he’s a mafia boss or a drug dealer. Or maybe he just secretly indulges in furry orgies or something. The mental image makes you smile.

You wave again. “Alright, have fun.” You say, trying not to sound too interested.

Finishing up your sandwich, you return to your bedroom to waste the rest of the day watching YouTube. You open up your computer, but before you can switch tabs you see you have a new email from Sans. Opening it up just a little too fast, you start reading.

‘sorry that i changed a lot of the stuff you wrote. the stuff you put down originally was actually fine, the only real problem was how you wrote about sound waves moving through air. you actually just used the two-dimensional wave equation and added a third dimension. unfortunately, there are other factors to account for when measuring three-dimensional sound waves so the answer your equation…’

You read over his explanation a few times, and although still complicated, you do think you understand what you did wrong. You guess you can forgive him for re-doing  _ that _ part, but you are still a little annoyed that he didn’t leave the parts that were ‘actually fine’ in. You type him another quick thank you and give him the O.K to submit the assignment to the teacher.

You’re at least glad that he bothered to capitalize his sentences in the assignment, though.

It’s hard to believe you’ve been learning about Physics for almost twelve weeks now, and you still feel like everything you ever do is wrong. You’re sure most of it is just your lack of confidence, but sometimes you wonder if you even deserve to be passing. What kind of person passing physics tries to measure three-dimensional sound waves with a two-dimensional equation? Or… that’s at least what you  _ think  _ you did wrong.

Closing your email, you resign yourself to wasting the rest of the day on the internet, but not before thanking your lucky stars that you got a partner that at least seems to know what he’s doing.

* * *

You always feared this day would come, and now that it’s actually here, every response that had seemed so easy in the past dies on your lips.

You hear the line crackle, and then your mom says “Honey? Did you hear me?”

Once again, you aren’t sure how to respond. To give yourself a few more seconds to come up with a convincing lie, you ask her to repeat herself.

“I was asking if you and your boyfriend would want to come over for dinner next week?” She says, and she sounds so hopeful and happy that you can’t bring yourself to say that you made him up.

Curse you, and your crappy decision making! And she’s waiting for an answer still, but what do you even say? Maybe you could just say you’ll think about it.

Unfortunately, your traitorous mouth has other ideas. “S-Sure! What day were you thinking?” You squeak.

And now you’ve really done it, because not only have you made up a fake boyfriend, you actually went and doubled-down on your lie. How hard was it to just say that you broke up? You really wish you could just fall through the ground and stop existing, but all your atoms are charged in a way that prevents that from happening. Just another way physics plagues your life, you guess.

You almost feel like you could cry, and for the rest of the conversation, it’s almost impossible to concentrate on what she’s saying. No matter which way you look at it, you can’t find a way to dig yourself out of this hole you’ve made for yourself.

You say your goodbyes, and you once again find yourself staring at the end call screen. You love your mother -- you really do -- but it feels like every time she calls you, you just end up more stressed afterward than you would be otherwise.

The worst part? It’s pretty much always your own damn fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I know you're probably all dying for Reader to actually talk to Sans, but don't worry! The next chapter will be out soon, and she and Sans are going to be talking, a lot.


	3. the test

This amount of stress on one person should be illegal, honestly. Not only are you behind on your classwork, you still haven’t found a way to get out of “The Dinner from Hell”, as you’ve taken to calling it. You know you have to do something soon because showing up alone is  _ absolutely _ out of the question. You don’t think you’d ever be able to live that down.

On top of all that, you have a Gravity test tomorrow, and you’re ninety-percent sure you’re going to fail. Trying your hardest to stay focused on the textbook, you force yourself to continue reading about early heliocentric models. You read the first few sections and understand it well enough, so you skip a section or two and jump to the “Energy Diagrams and Orbits” section.

You  _ think  _ you understand the concept, but reading the math again doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. You’re pretty sure this isn’t something you have to do on the test, so you go back to the study document your teacher provided, and ‘Calculating and explaining total energy of particles moving across a gravitational field.’ is listed as a requirement.

Determined, you read back the math in the section again. Okay, so you just have to isolate the radial kinetic energy and then add the rotational potential energy plus the rotational kinetic energy. Easy. Kind of. The only real problem is that you don’t really know how to scale it to multiple particles, and you aren’t sure what to do if you’re actually missing any of these numbers.

Multiply that with the fact that even if you go to bed  _ now _ , you’re still only looking at six hours of sleep and you have a real problem. You debate asking your roommate for help, but you aren’t exactly sure how much use he’ll end up being.

You pull out your phone. In the past, when you were having problems like this you would just find some videos on YouTube to help you, but most videos you can find that go into the math are way too long or explain it in round-a-bout ways that make it even more confusing.

Huffing, you go over the test material again. You might know enough to almost pass, but it’s not like you need this course to get your degree, so why just do the bare minimum, without truly understanding it?

Once again, you pull up some more practice questions on the topic and start writing. You feel like you’re actually getting it, but when you check your work your answer is drastically different than what the textbook says.

Getting desperate, you go to your contacts. The guy who’s number you’d saved is still there, but you’ve only talked to him once, and you’re pretty sure he gave you his number because he wanted to date you, not help you understand basic orbits at two-in-the-morning.

You open your email and go to the conversation you opened with Sans. Well, he certainly does owe you for re-doing all your work, you think with amusement. From what you saw when he was working on the project, he didn’t seem like the type to keep a tight sleeping schedule. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try, right?

You’ll just message him once, and then even if you don’t understand, you’ll go to bed. You don’t want to bother him too much, anyway.

You type up a short message about your concerns and keep trying the practice questions, being extra careful that there are no errors. You see the email tab flash, and you notice he’s actually responded. 

Oh no. He’s asking if he can call you. Is it really so complicated that you have to talk to him? Internally panicking, you try to think of an excuse. Mind drawing a blank, you try to convince yourself to put your phone-related nervousness aside. You’re sure just a few minutes on the phone would be worth a better grade, right? Maybe you could even ask him about a few other things, assuming it all goes well.

Taking a deep breath, you dial the number attached to his email.

You hear the line click, and before you can say anything, you hear him speak.

“hey. is this the girl that needed help with the potential energy stuff?” He asks.

His voice is really deep, you notice. Ignoring the weird thought, you manage to respond.

“Y-Yeah, I was just trying to figure out why my math isn’t giving the same answer as the book.” You say, hating yourself for stuttering. Why is talking on the phone so hard? You aren’t nearly as bad in person.

“well, first things first, you actually used the wrong symbol when calculating the total radial energy.” He says, sounding amused.

At first, you assume he’s joking. Just to be sure, you check your math again. You read it multiple times, face burning. He must really think you’re an idiot!

“hello?”

Snapping back to reality, you start to apologize.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry for wasting your time, I feel like such an idio-” He cuts you off with a chuckle.

“kid, it’s fine. everybody makes mistakes, you’re probably just tired.” He says, but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

You’re starting to seriously regret doing this, and you figure you should just leave and preserve your dignity while you still can. You apologize again and start to say goodbye before he cuts you off.

“hey, you also wanted to know about how to calculate potential energy for multiple particles at once, right?”

You know it’s not on the test, but the whole point of you trying to do this was to actually learn something, so you figure you should just bite the bullet and have him try to explain it to you. You’ve already gone this far.

“Uh, yeah. If you have the time I’d love for you to explain it to me.” You say, phone-based nervousness starting to pass.

He tells you he’d love to, and he launches into a complicated explanation about potential energy and particles. You try your hardest to listen. He asks you if you’re understanding so far, and surprisingly, you actually are. For his part, he’s a decent teacher, but now that you’ve fixed your stupid symbol errors, it’s really not that hard.

You debate telling him you understand and going to bed but decide against it. You tell yourself you just don’t want to disappoint him, but the truth is you just like listening to his voice. Debating with yourself the appropriate amount to like the voice of somebody you barely know, you almost don’t notice him trying to get your attention.

“did that clear it up for you, buddy? i can try to explain it again, if you want.” He says, sounding slightly more comfortable than he did at the beginning of the conversation.

“Yeah, you definitely helped. You’re a great teacher, by the way.” You say. You figure you can at least compliment his teaching skills for all he’s helped you.

He chuckles. “wow, thanks. i’ve actually been thinking about becoming a teacher. figured it paid more than just sitting on my butt all day, at least.” He says.

You laugh. “Yeah, what’s your major?” You say. So much for not wasting any more of his time.

“well, physics. hopefully that’s not too surprising. i technically already had a degree underground, but i pretty much have to do all of it again, to get one up here. what’s your major? math, or something?” He says, sounding genuinely curious.

Well, that pretty much confirms he’s a monster. Trying not to sound too surprised at his casual mention of the underground, you tell him you’re an English major. Partially expecting him to laugh at you, you wait for his response.

“oh really? you must’ve really hated the emails i sent you, then.” He says, amusement clear in his voice.

This earns a surprised laugh out of you, and you hear him chuckle.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine those go over well with most people, English degree or not.” You say, still laughing.

“heh, you’re starting to sound just like my brother. although, he types in all upper-case. not sure which is worse, honestly.”

Even more surprised, you ask about his brother. A person who types in all upper-case is definitely one you want to know more about. You learn that they’re both skeletons, which confirms that the picture you saw of them a few days ago must’ve really been him. You also learn that they live together. You assume that makes sense. College kids don’t have reputation for being rich, and there’s a good enough reason for that.

He asks you if you live alone, and you tell him about your roommate Josh. You talk more about your families, and you even tell him about how you accidentally made up a fake-boyfriend and offered to take him to dinner with your parents. He surprises you by laughing, and he even says that he’d be willing to be your fake-boyfriend if you had no other choice.

You aren’t sure how to respond to something like that, so you just laugh and ignore it. You move on to the topic of school, and before you know it an hour or two has passed. You look at the clock and squeak. Abruptly derailing the conversation, you tell him you need to go to bed. You hear him mumble curses and his bed squeaks, as he adjusts himself.

“yeah, i should hit the hay, too. should probably get at least a few hours of sleep, assuming i’m even gonna’ go to class.” He says, amused. You laugh, and he chuckles, too.

You both say goodnight, and you hang up.

That went much better than expected. You came in expecting to talk for a few minutes at most, and you both ended up talking for almost two hours. Lying down, you try to fall asleep. 

You’re almost tired enough that anxiety caused by “The Dinner from Hell” doesn’t prevent you from falling asleep. Lying in bed with your eyes closed, you once again go over your options. 

You could say you’re sick, but that would probably just end up delaying it. If push comes to shove, you figure that’s your best option. 

You’ve been thinking about saying you broke up, but you’re sure that would probably end up breaking your mom’s heart and forcing you to listen to even more melodramatic complaining about how you’ll never find love, and how you’re her only hope for grandkids.

You refuse to admit to yourself you’re just scared of disappointing her.

You remember what Sans said, and it causes you to briefly entertain the thought of asking Sans to help, but you quickly decide that’s even worse of an idea than just showing up alone. What would you even say? Hey, remember how we talked for two hours? Want to pretend to be my boyfriend in front of my parents? He’d probably think you were crazy.

You guess you could ask your roommate to go with you, but he’s pretty much never home anyway, and it’s only gotten worse in the last few days. You suppose you can ask him if he’ll be free.

The only thing you absolutely refuse to do is come clean about the lie. You know deep down that it’s the only certain way to get out of this hole you’ve dug, but you absolutely would rather take the chance and keep your dignity intact.

The only thing you’re waiting for now is a real solution that doesn’t involve making some unwilling guy pretend to be your boyfriend for a night.

It’s not easy, but after a half-hour of lying in your bed an anxiety-ridden mess, you finally manage to fall asleep. If only Sans were here, your exhausted mind thinks. His voice would probably be great for singing lullabies, or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really been trying to get these chapters longer, but it's a lot harder than I remember. The next chapter will include "The Dinner from Hell", so that will be the longest one yet, by far. Hopefully making longer chapters gets easier once I get into the plot stuff. And trust me, there will be a plot (non-romantic and romantic).
> 
> Once again, if you liked it or just want to yell about how shit of a writer I am, I encourage you to leave a comment.


	4. the dinner from hell

Nervously bouncing your leg, you try to focus on the lecture. The entire day you’ve been sick with anxiety, and as you get closer and closer to “The Dinner from Hell”, you devolve further into a state of panic.

You suppose you can just say that cancel and say you’re sick, but knowing your mom, she’d just reschedule it for a day or two later. You had a whole _week_ , and you still haven’t been able to think of a permanent solution. That isn’t to say you didn’t try, though. You’re embarrassed to admit to yourself that over half of your waking hours were spent stressing and strategizing about this very day.

What feels like an hour later, you’re finally dismissed from your lecture and you skurry home. Opening the door to your apartment, you walk into an empty living room.

Well, you guess that rules out forcing your roommate Josh to go with you, at least. After checking the clock on the microwave, you sit on the couch. You have just over four hours before you have to leave, and you still don’t have the slightest idea what you’re going to do.

You assume you’ll have to find somebody to go with you, although you aren’t sure how many people would be willing to do something like that, and _also_ be convincing enough so that your parents believe the lie. You aren’t even sure _you_ can be convincing enough, and you’ve had to lie to them hundreds of times. Although, you’ve never lied to them about something this huge. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t make you feel bad.

You pull out your phone and open your contacts. You guess you could try to call your roommate, but you feel him not even being here is probably a pretty clear message that he has better things to do. Being honest with yourself, you’re surprised at how few male contacts you actually have. Maybe your mom was on to something all those times tried to get you a boyfriend.

You mentally chastise yourself for not attaching names to some of your saved numbers as you continue to scroll. You begrudgingly open a conversation with some guy from your Physics class. Yeah, there’s pretty much no way you can do this. You’re pretty sure he gave you his number to date you, you reason. Asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend would be kind of cruel.

You turn off your phone’s screen, put it back in your pocket, and close your eyes. Suddenly, a thought strikes you. Maybe you could ask Sans? You know you said it was a stupid idea before, but you don’t honestly see him getting mad. What’s the worst that can happen? Plus, he already said he would, even if you’re ninety-percent sure he was joking.

You open your email conversation with Sans and type his number again. You don’t bother saving it. If he doesn’t think you’re crazy after this, maybe you will then.

Before you can think about it too hard, you press the call button.

The line rings four times, and you’re torn between anxiety that he’ll actually answer, or anxiety that he won’t and you’ll have to find somebody else. On top of that, you already don’t like talking on the phone, either.

Just when you’re about to lose hope, you hear the line click.

“hey. is this another one of those telemarketer calls?” Sans says, sounding bored.

Confused, you respond. “What? No? This is-”

He cuts you off. “just kidding, this is my voicemail. leave a message after the beep.”

“Wait. Are you serious? What the hell, Sans?!” You yell into the phone, indignified.

You hear him laugh. “nah, i’m just pullin’ your leg. whaddaya’ need? did you want help using the right math symbols, again?” Despite his joking, He’s being rather friendly, and you’re starting to feel much more confident about this than you did a few minutes ago.

“No, nothing like that. I know this is probably a little weird… or a _lot_ weird, but I need to ask you for a favor.”

“uh. sure kiddo. shoot.”

“So… remember how I told you about the fake-boyfriend situation with my parents?”

“oh yeah, that was definitely a doozy. what about it?” Sans asks.

“Well, I was kind of wondering if you could… _help_ me with that. Just for one night, obviously! I feel a little bad asking but I don’t really have anybody else who is available.”

“sure.” He says, unphased.

“Wait, really? I figured I’d have to convince you more.” You say. “Or offer to pay you.”

More hopeful about your chances than you have been in a while, you mentally celebrate to yourself. Of course, you’re still probably screwed, but at least you have a chance, now!

“nah, it seems like a fun night.” There’s a small pause, and when Sans talks again, he sounds uncomfortable. “just in case you didn’t realize last time we talked, you know i’m a monster, right? i wouldn’t want to show up and realize your family isn’t cool with that or something.”

Wow, was he really worried about that? You’ve honestly never even really met anybody who’s been outwardly racist towards monsters, and they’ve been out for almost a year, now. Obviously you’re fine with it, and you’re sure your family probably will be, too. 

“Yeah, I know. Honestly, I didn’t even really think about it like that until now.” You rush to assure him. “My family will probably be fine with it, and if they aren’t, then I’ll make sure to yell at them for you.” You say, only half-joking. Sans chuckles.

Up until now, you haven’t really thought about how your parents will react, but if they can’t deal with monsters, then they can just shove it, anyway.

“alright, where do you live? i can pretty much be there whenever.” He asks.

You give him your address and tell him when to come, and you thank him again before hanging up the phone.

Just like the last time you’d called Sans, you’d gone in expecting it to be a trainwreck, and you’ve actually come out feeling optimistic and cheerful. Apparently talking on the phone isn’t as bad as you originally thought. Maybe it’s just your mom, you think with amusement.

Going into your room, you take off your school clothes and open your closet. You know you still have a few hours, but you aren’t sure what to do with all this pent up energy and nervousness. You finally decide on some jeans and a nice red sweater. You grab your outfit and peek into the living room. The apartment is empty, so you don’t bother covering yourself up before quickly dashing across the carpet into the bathroom.

Laying out a towel, you get into the shower. The warm water runs down your body and you feel yourself immediately relax. Just an hour ago you had almost no idea what you were going to do about this dinner, but now…

There are certainly still ways it could go wrong, but you’re looking forward to spending some more time with Sans, at the very least. You’re feeling peaceful as you think about the evening and you simply stand under the stream for a few more minutes.

You’re snapped out of your reverie when you hear your apartment door loudly open, and footsteps on the carpet.

Ah, you guess your roommate is home now. He would’ve certainly been useful an hour ago, but you don’t find yourself disappointed. You’ll have more opportunities to hang out with him later, and you’re strangely for Sans to be your fake-boyfriend, if only for a night. Despite the unique circumstances, he was genuinely fun to talk to -- from what you remember -- and you got along quite well.

You get out of the shower and dry yourself off. Sitting down on a stool, you pull out the blowdryer and start on your hair.

Once you feel sufficiently dry, you start getting ready. You put on your outfit, do your hair, and put on a little makeup. You check your phone and see that you still have two hours to blow before Sans arrives. You guess you could do a _little_ schoolwork, but you’re still a tiny bit too nervous to feel like you’d get anything important done.

Leaving the washroom, you greet your roommate. He barely acknowledges you, and you can tell he looks even more tired than usual. You’re still insanely curious about what he even does when he’s not here, but you aren’t close enough where you feel it’s your place to ask.

You idly walk into the kitchen and rifle through the fridge.

“Hey, did you still need somebody to do that dinner thing with your parents?” Josh asks, but you can tell he doesn’t sound particularly excited about it.

“No, I already got somebody to do it for me. Maybe you should go to bed or something, man.” You say, tone light.

You’re concerned, but you don’t really want to offend him. He makes a non-commital noise and stretches out on the couch.

You decide on just drinking some water. You feel much too jittery to stomach anything else. Plus, you don’t want to offend your parents by not eating as much as normal.

Walking over to the couch, you look at Josh.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask him, voice laced with concern.

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been spending a lot of time at work recently.” He says, getting up.

You figure that might be enough of an excuse to actually ask what he actually does, so you try to worm some more information out of him.

“Oh yeah? Where do you work, anyway?” You ask, trying not to sound too curious.

“You know that store on the other side of town that sells all that skiing stuff?” He asks, looking the other way.

“Oh, that’s where you work?” You ask, trying not to sound too unimpressed. He gives you his confirmation, and you both lapse into silence.

  
  
That’s a remarkably _normal_ answer, and you find yourself disappointed. You figured that it would be a little more interesting with the backward and bizarre schedule he keeps. He says he’ll see you when you get home, and you tell him to get some rest. He chuckles and enters his room.

You go into your room, too. Sitting on your bed, you open up your laptop. Too jittery to do any schoolwork, you figure you could watch some YouTube for a while. You find it hard to stay focused on what you’re watching, and the next hour-and-a-half drags on much longer than you feel is necessary.

 ****  
  
Finally, half-an-hour before you told Sans to arrive, you shut off your laptop and walk into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, you anxiously wait for the knock on your door. You know he’s a monster, but you aren’t exactly sure what type. You can’t remember if he mentioned it when you were talking, but the picture you saw on UnderNet was definitely of two skeletons.

Not completely discounting the theory that ‘Sans’ is just a really common name for monsters, you pull up the image of said skeletons again. Trying not to feel weird about snooping, you attempt to figure out which one is Sans. The one on the left is much taller, and he’s wearing a ridiculous white breastplate… costume… thing. From what you’ve heard of Sans’ brother Papyrus, you’re fairly certain that this is him, which probably makes Sans the one on the right. Maybe.

He’s definitely short compared to his brother, but you can’t tell if he’s actually short or if Papyrus is just ridiculously tall. You try to look at something in the background for reference, but it’s relatively blurry. It looks like they might be at some sort of costume party, but Sans is just wearing a ridiculous fake mustache. Fully taking it in for the first time, the image makes you snort.

Besides the mustache, he’s simply wearing a blue hoodie and white tee-shirt with baseball shorts. Huh. You also notice that he seems to actually fill out his shirt, and he wears a goofy grin on his face. His eye holes have little dots of light inside them, giving him the appearance that he’s alive, unlike the human variant. You’re not sure what you expected. He’s much less creepy than you’d expect a skeleton to look, honestly.

Your phone buzzes, and you notice you have a new text from your mom. You try not to panic as you open it. It’s just a text asking you if you’re still coming today, and you type her back a quick confirmation.

You go back to the picture of the skeletons, but close it in a panic when you hear a knock on the door. Alright, this is the moment of truth.

You walk over to the door and look through the peephole.

Yeah, you were right. Sans is here, and although he has slight bags under his eyes he still looks remarkably similar to how he did in the picture. You even think he’s wearing the same clothes that he was in the photo, minus the mustache. He seems to be about as tall as you, more or less. You guess this also answers the question about how tall his brother is.

You notice he’s looking straight at you, and his grin grows imperceptibly.

“i can see you, you know.” He says, but you can tell he’s teasing you.

Feeling embarrassed, you open the door.

“Hi. Sorry. Do you want to come in?” You say, keeping your tone friendly. The last thing you want is for him to think that you’re uncomfortable because he’s a monster or something stupid like that.

He waltzes in, and awkwardly stands in your living room.

You close the door, and you turn to face him. Unsure of what to say, you go with the safe road of talking about the event.

“So… we should probably get our story straight so it actually sounds like we’re dating.”

He looks contemplative. “yeah, i guess? we should probably also make up a story for how we met or something.” He says.

“Oh, right. I guess we can just say we met through school, right? Plus, it has the bonus of being true, so it will sound natural.”

He looks contemplative. “hmm. how did we go from classmates to dating, then?”

“Well, I guess we could say that we ended up talking about Physics, I guess?”

“and then we just hit it off? yeah, that has _potential_ . not sure if the _energy_ is right, though.”

You almost don’t notice the Physics wordplay.

“Oh god. You better not make any of those crappy puns during dinner.” You say, failing to hold back a smile.

“what? is it against the _law_ , or something?” He says, also smiling. You’re pretty sure that’s his default expression, though.

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Dude, _stop_. Those are seriously so bad. I don’t know why I’m even laughing.”

The puns aren’t even that funny, it’s just the way he delivers them that makes you crack up. He looks satisfied with himself.

“alright, i like it. easy to remember and not even technically false, either.”

For some reason this makes you blush, and you hum out an affirmative noise.

“anything else i should know? should i be calling you sweetheart or muffin during dinner, too?”

This makes you crack up again, and you walk over to the couch.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never actually had a boyfriend before.” You cringe.

Oops. You hadn’t actually meant for him to know that, but he doesn’t seem phased.

He grins. “i guess i’ll be ready if they aren’t buyin’ it. turn on the good ol’ skeleton charm, that’ll convince ‘em.”

“I’m sure it will. You’re probably the most charming skeleton I’ve met.”

He chuckles. “you should meet my brother then. everybody loves that guy.”

  
“Oh yeah? Is he good with the ladies?” You ask.

“uh… no. he definitely gets points for effort, though. he actually has this dating manual. tries to get me to read it any time i go anywhere with anybody.”

The thought strikes you as hilarious, and you laugh again.

“Wow, he sounds like a pretty great guy.” You say, still laughing.

“yeah, he really is.” He’s still grinning, but he definitely sounds sincere. He must really love his brother.

You both talk for a few more minutes before you both agree you should get going. You open your phone to call an Uber, but Sans waves you off.

“it’s fine, i got papyrus’ car.”

You both walk down to the end of the street to a sleek red convertible. You think he’s joking until he actually pulls out the keys and opens the door.

“Wait, are you serious? Where does Papyrus work? Is he also a Physicist?” You ask.

“what? oh, no. he just works at the monster school near the mountain. he’s a gym teacher.”

You think that’s a little weird, but maybe monster schools pay their teachers more.

You both get into the car, and you give him the address of your parent’s house. You’re strangely calm on the drive over, but you can tell Sans looks a little nervous. You don’t blame him, you’d probably be freaking out in his situation, too.

You pull into the driveway and hop out of the car. Sans gets out as well, and you both walk to the door. You can feel the anxiety in the pit of your stomach as you stand on the porch.

“Wait. Maybe we should go in separately.” You whisper.

But it’s too late. Sans is already knocking, and you don’t think he even hears you. You feel like a deer in the headlights as you wait for the door to open.

You see the knob turn and all of a sudden you’re looking at your mom standing in the doorway.

She quickly glances back and forth between you and Sans, and you can see the surprise on her face. At least she doesn’t look angry, you think.

You can tell she wasn’t expecting this, but once you introduce Sans and she leads you inside, she looks like she’s recovered well enough.

All three of you are sitting awkwardly in the living room until your mom stands to go into the kitchen. She says she’s going to finish dinner, but you can tell she’s just uncomfortable. After a few moments of sitting in silence, your mom calls you both into the dining room.

Trying to seem normal, you both go and sit at the table. Your dad doesn’t look nearly as surprised as your mom was a few minutes ago, so you assume she must have filled him in.

Without making it obvious, you try to further gauge everybody’s reactions. Your parents both look uncomfortable, and even Sans is sweating a little bit. You’ve all been sitting here for almost thirty seconds and nobody is saying anything.

The silence is stifling. You decide to open with something safe. “So… This is my boyfriend, Sans.”

Your dad starts to say something, but your mom cuts him off.

“How did you two meet?” She asks, voice artificially bright.

Wow, this is going worse than you thought it would, so far.

“we’re both in the same physics class.” Your dad raises his eyebrow. “we ended up talking about stuff and pretty much just hit it off.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your major?” Your dad asks.

“well, physics. i had a degree underground but to get it certified i have to do two years at the university. i’m doing most of my prerequisites right now so i’ll be doing the more complicated physics classes next year.”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive. What kind of stuff did you do underground?” Your mom asks.

“not much, really. it wasn’t as bad as some people think, but there wasn’t exactly a high demand for physicists.” Sans says, chuckling.

“What _was_ it like? Sorry, is that a rude question? I’ve just been really curious about that kind of stuff, seeing as we aren’t even allowed to go down there.” Your mom asks. You cringe, hoping she doesn’t offend him.

“it wasn’t actually that different from up here. there were schools, homes, and stores. near the end there was a massive resource shortage, so we were worried we were going to run out of food and electricity. luckily we got out before any of that happened, though.” Sans says.

Your mom makes a thoughtful noise and you all go back to eating. The silence isn’t nearly as awkward now, and your nervousness is starting to ebb out. Your parents were more curious about monsters than you thought they would be, and you’re still hoping they didn’t make Sans uncomfortable.

After a while, the conversation picks back up and you try to pay attention as your mom and dad laugh about some random gossip about one of your neighbors.

You think you hear your mom ask Sans a question, so you quickly pay attention.

“i like to play the trombone, sometimes. truth be told, i don’t really have much time for hobbies since i started this university stuff.”

“Oh, is it really different from how it was underground or something?”

“no, not really. it’s just a lot of classes. if it were up to me i just wouldn’t go, but i have to show up to get assignment packages and stuff. maybe it’ll get a little easier next year, who knows.”

Your mom smiles. “What are you looking to do with your degree?”

“uh. i figured i would just become some sort of physics teacher or something. i already have a few jobs now, so it’s not like i’m really that concerned about money.” Sans says, sounding perturbed.

“Wait, you have multiple jobs _and_ you’re going to university? How do you even have time for her?” Your dad asks. He’s laughing, and you hear Sans chuckle.

Your parents are being really cool about this, you notice. You do feel bad, and how they’re reacting is just making you feel even worse. You suppose you did this to yourself.

You notice your plate is almost empty, so you glance at your phone and check the time. You’ve been here for about forty-five minutes, and you aren’t sure how much longer you’re expected to stay. 

You’ve been to dinner at your parents’ house before, but most times you just enjoy it and leave when it feels right. Today is different. Now, you’re looking for a way out before something bad happens and you end up blowing your cover.

You all make small talk for a little while more before you somehow get back on to the topic of physics. You and Sans both talk a little bit about what you’ve learned so far in your introductory course, but you quickly lose track when Sans starts trying to explain quantum entanglement to your dad. For his part, he does look legitimately engaged. Maybe he’s the one that should have taken a physics class, you think with amusement.

Your mom looks bored but content, and you idly twirl some crumbs on your plate as you listen to Sans talk about even more physics mumbo-jumbo. After a few minutes, your mom gets up and quietly collects the dishes.

As your mom passes you, you see her smile mischievously.

“Maybe they should be the ones dating…” She whispers.

This makes you laugh, and Sans finally seems to notice you.

“what?” He asks you, looking confused.

“It’s nothing. I just thought of a joke.” You lie.

He gives you a funny look, but before he and your dad can continue talking, you cut in.

“Mom, this has been really fun. Sans and I probably have to get going, but we should definitely do this again.” You hope that didn’t sound too rude, but your mom quickly smiles and agrees. Everybody stands up, and Sans shakes your dad’s hand. You hear them talk a little bit more, but you can’t make out what they’re saying.

Your mom hugs you hard.

“He’s really great. We’re proud of you.” She whispers, and you cringe.

Wow, you really feel like shit, now. At least you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, but if you’re being honest, you may have just created an even bigger problem. You never actually accounted for what would happen _after_ this dinner, you realize.

You pull back and give your mom a smile. You still feel guilty, but you are rather happy. Your parents both lead you to the front door, and you hug your mom again. Your mom goes to hug Sans, and you panic. He seems a little blindsided, but he doesn’t freak out. She smiles at you again, and you both leave the house.

On the porch now, you fist-pump the air and giggle.

“Wow, that went amazing!” You whisper-shout, and Sans shushes you, laughing. “Thank you so much, Sans. You did great.” You say.

He grins. “heh, don’t worry about it. i’m the best fake-boyfriend around.”

You do a tiny dance and practically skip back to the car.

Sans looks happy too, you realize. He gets into the car and turns the key in the ignition. You both pull out of the driveway and start back towards your apartment. You may not be completely in the clear, but right now, none of it seems to matter. It’s hard to think that only 6 hours ago you couldn’t think of this dinner without having a mini-breakdown.

You lean against the window and watch the passing trees. The evening really took it out of you, you think. Being stressed always makes you tired, so you figure you can just take an early night tonight. You close your eyes.

* * *

You distantly feel the car stop, and you groan. Why are you so uncomfortable?

Sans calls your name.

“hey, we’re back.”

Your addled brain barely even registers him speaking, and he calls your name again, lightly shaking you.

You realize where you are and open your eyes. Blearily looking around, you apologize and get out of the car. Stretching your tired limbs, Sans walks up beside you.

“hey, c’mon. i’ll walk you back to your door.”

You don’t have the energy to protest. You both walk in silence for a few more minutes before you finally get to your door. You both look at each other, and you find yourself blushing.

“Thanks again for this, Sans.” You say softly.

“it was fun, you don’t have to thank me. it’s not like i had anything better to do.” He says, but you can tell he’s grateful.

You’re both still standing here, and you start to feel nervous.

“welp. my brother is probably going to be wondering where i am. if you need to do this again you can call me. it was fun.” Sans says, sounding awkward.

“Oh, okay. Have fun.” You say, cringing.

Sans waves and walks away. You go into your apartment.

Have fun? Really? Trying to purge the awkward moment from your mind, you remember the rest of the night. It really did go much better than you expected, when you think about it. Plus, you got to hang out with Sans, although maybe not as much as you might’ve hoped. You did learn a lot more about him, though.

It’s also nice to have some sort of tangible excuse that will make your mom stop recommending you dates. The only downside you can see is that your dad and sans got along a little _too_ well, and now you’re scared they’re going to want him over again soon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it, as they say.

Fumbling blindly for the light, you open the fridge to get a glass of water. Your roommate appears to still be snoozing, so you try to be extra quiet. Knowing him, if he wakes up he’ll feel obligated to ask you how it went and make sure you got back safe. While you appreciate the sentiment, you could tell he needed the sleep.

Getting comfortable on the couch, you open your phone. You’re still tired, but after your weird encounter with Sans, you feel like you have too many thoughts going through your head to sleep. You also don’t want to end up ruining your schedule by going to bed before ten.

Browsing through your feed, you see another news story about increased monster kidnappings. You skim it and notice that your area is listed as a high-risk zone. From what you’ve seen, almost everybody you’ve met has been outwardly accepting, so it makes you mad to see this kind of thing still being a problem.

You see another story about some botched rocket launch and keep scrolling. Besides these two things, you get bored pretty quickly. Your mind can’t help but wander back to dinner with your parents. You were concerned about your dad being offensive early on, but he and Sans had actually hit it off.

You remember your mom joking about them dating, and you crack up again. Despite your amusement, you can’t help but feel a traitorous spike of jealously. You were supposed to be his girlfriend, and you barely got to talk to him at all.

Maybe you could ask him to go drinking with you soon, and you could actually end up getting to know each other a little better. Just because you want to be his friend, obviously. Trying not to dwell on the logistics of actually dating a skeleton, you turn off your phone and enter your room.

Trying to navigate in the dark, you strip out of your clothes and put on something more comfortable. You fumble with your charger on your nightstand, plug in your phone, and get into bed. 

Closing your eyes, you revel in the sensation of actually being able to get to sleep without being stressed. With all your university work and this fake-boyfriend dinner, you haven’t been getting the best sleep recently.

You drift off thinking peaceful thoughts about Sans and your parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out a little longer than expected, so it might have a few mistakes. If you notice anything odd, I would really appreciate you pointing it out.
> 
> The next chapter will be in Sans POV.
> 
> I keep saying I'm going to post the next chapter in a few days, but lets be real. Chances are it will be out tomorrow. I just can't help myself, sometimes.


	5. the raccoon

Sans wakes up with the sunlight beaming into his eyes and rolls over. He definitely doesn’t like being blinded in the morning, but he can’t bring himself to ever shut his window before he goes to bed. As much as he hates to admit it, waking up in the dark almost always spirals him into a panic and makes him think that he’s back underground. Considering the alternative, he can deal with a little sunlight.

Rolling out of bed, he goes downstairs without even bothering to change his clothes from yesterday. Papyrus is loudly bustling around in the kitchen, as always. He sits down at the table.

Spinning around, Papyrus smiles. “OH, HELLO BROTHER! HOW WAS YOUR DATE LAST NIGHT?”

“i told you bro, it wasn’t a date. her parents just  _ thought  _ it was.”

“OH. WELL, WORRY NOT, BROTHER. ONE DAY, YOU WILL FIND A MATE THAT LOVES YOU VERY MUCH. PROBABLY.” Papyrus says, as loud as ever.

Sans makes a non-committal noise.

Truth is, Sans never really plans to find a girlfriend. He always sort of figured he would, but living in a world that can instantly roll back years with no warning doesn’t make that dream exactly feasible.

Nevertheless, he’s still convinced himself to go to work and get his degree. He tells himself that it’s just to make his friends and brother stop nagging him, but the truth is, he secretly hopes that this is the final timeline.

It’s not all bad, though. Even if they do end up back underground, he truly is happy to be on the surface. Even luckier for him, in the event of a reset, he might actually remember some of it, too.

Trying not to fall asleep, he idly listens to the clanking of pots and pans as his brother cooks up his newest concoction. At least his food is actually somewhat edible now, as well.

  
  
After an unhealthy portion of spaghetti and glue, Sans gets up and stretches.  "alright bro, i should probably get goin’.” 

He frowns. “OH, OKAY. HAVE A GOOD TIME AT WORK, BROTHER.”

Sans doesn’t have to actually have to leave for a while, but he doesn’t have much free time on weekdays. This usually means he ends up going to Grillby’s for a few hours before work on Saturdays.

Walking out of the kitchen, he appears in the alley behind the bar. It sucks having to walk through garbage every time he comes, but he can’t risk humans seeing him teleport.

Entering the restaurant, his senses are assaulted by the familiar atmosphere. He’s enthusiastically greeted by some regular patrons, and he makes some corny pun that he forgets by the time he sits down.

He knows it doesn’t really make sense to drink himself into a stupor just a few hours before he goes to work, but he just can’t help himself sometimes. With the increased monster kidnappings, the spirit has already been pretty grim among the general populace. For Sans, it just means he’s in a crappier mood than usual.

At least he got to go to that dinner thing with you yesterday. When he was picking his partner for the sound waves assignment, he never would have expected it to lead to something like that. At least he’s gotten something out of that class, he thinks with amusement.

Grillby pours him a drink, and he gives him a funny look. Did he even ask, or is he just that damn perceptive?

Yeah, he really did enjoy being your fake-boyfriend for a day. Since he can’t have the real thing, he figured it would’ve been fun to figure out why his friends in university always made a big stink about meeting their partners’ parents. Plus, he got to help you out, right?

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, but it was a little uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he secretly hopes that you might ask him to do it again.

Idly sipping at his drink, he remembers talking with your dad. He isn’t sure why, but the humans he always expects to be racist usually turn out to be perfectly fine. He’s definitely been guilty of not giving some humans a fair chance, so he’s been trying to tone it down a bit. Regardless of what he might’ve thought humans were like back when he was underground, almost all of them he’s met have turned out to be pretty cool.

It’s a shame you’re graduating from university this year, though. He definitely would’ve wanted to hang out with you more. He supposes he still can, but it would be kind of weird to just randomly call up some girl he’s only talked to for an hour or two and ask her to hang out with him. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea or anything. You’re certainly cute, but he just wouldn’t be able to take it if there was a reset. Even being too friendly with the guys in his classes scares him sometimes, so making real connections with people that can just randomly be ripped away is out of the question. He knows from experience it’s a bad idea.

Nearly done his fourth drink now, he tries to slow down. Why is he even doing this? It’s barely after twelve and he still has to go to work in less than five hours. He doesn’t think his manager would appreciate him showing up to a security job completely wasted.

He tries to cut himself off, but it certainly wouldn’t do to leave this drink unfinished, he reasons. Sans is many things, but he is certainly not a wasteful skeleton. After finishing the alcohol, Sans stands up from the barstool. He’s wobbly on his feet, and Grillby gives him a concerned look. He tells him he’s fine and leaves the bar.

Unsure of where he’s even going, Sans stumbles into the alley he teleported in from. He tries to teleport back to his room but gets distracted when he notices a raccoon rooting around inside the dumpster.

Trying not to trip over garbage, he looks on in amazement. He’s never seen a raccoon this close up before, and it’s certainly a monumental occasion. If he was convinced in his abilities to use his phone, he thinks he might’ve taken a picture.

With a goofy smile on his face, he tries to grab the furry animal. It seems to notice he’s there for the first time and dives out of his reach. Dejected, he tries to lean further into the dumpster. His fingers brush its fur, but before he can latch on, he tilts too far and loses his balance.

“shit!” He slurs, surrounded by bags of garbage.

Looking around, he is unable to find the raccoon. It must have escaped during his struggle to keep himself upright. Confused as to what he even entered the alleyway for, the hilarity of the situation dawns on him and he starts laughing to himself. Fortunately, no onlookers are here to witness this situation, or else they would’ve assumed he was some sort of insane hobo.

Trying to hoist himself out of the dumpster, he only ends up getting himself lodged even further under the weight of old food and waste.

Staring at the roof of his prison, he resigns himself to his fate. Lying motionless, his mind wanders back to you. He can still remember the email you sent him when he finished the project. Truth be told, he had almost completely forgotten he even had a partner until you sent it. Only then did he realize how much of an asshole he was when he re-did all your work.

Grimacing at the memory, he struggles to keep his eyes open. He’s distantly aware of how bad an idea it is to sleep in a dumpster, but his mind feels so far away.

Drifting off to sleep while covered in trash is definitely one of the stupider things he’s done since coming to the surface, his exhausted mind supplies.

* * *

Headache pounding in his skull, Sans takes in his surroundings.

“what the hell am i doing in a dumpster?” He asks, directed at nobody.

Pulling out his phone, he looks at the time. Isn’t he supposed to be at work right now? Mind still running in slow-motion, panic starts to set in. Yeah, he definitely is. Hoisting himself out of the dumpster, he teleports to the bank as quickly as his sluggish magic lets him.

Appearing in his office, he’s startled to notice another person at his desk.

“There you are! Do you even understand how late you are right now? What the hell is that smell?” His manager asks.

“oh shit, i’m so sorr-”

He cuts Sans off. “Why are you covered in garbage?! You better have a damn good explanation for this.”

Obviously, telling his manager the truth would just get him fired. Fortunately, his dumpster escapade might actually help validate a pretty good lie.

Trying to sound serious, he speaks. “uh. i was mugged."

Some of the anger disappears from his eyes.

“Are you kidding?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Goddammit, Sans.”

“i’m here now. you don’t have to worry about this happening again.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I won’t.” He says, a warning in his tone. “Get to work, and make sure you’re on time tomorrow. I don’t want to fire you.”

Sitting down, he thanks his lucky stars that his manager bought it. The truth is, he necessarily doesn’t really need this job. He makes enough money through his other one, but the difference is that this one is reliable and consistent. At least assuming he doesn’t show up late, hungover, and smelling like rotten fast food.

For somebody so determined to believe nothing matters, he sure is scared about getting fired. For himself, he’s not concerned. He just can’t stand the idea of becoming some sort of financial burden for Papyrus.

Sans learns this time and time again. No matter how little everything matters, everything still matters a whole damn lot.

* * *

It’s times like this where he misses having a hotdog stand. At least when he was sitting at that doing nothing, he could actually eat some food. Here, he only has some camera monitors that never update to keep him company.

He did plan on keeping the stand open, originally. It just turns out that humans have laws that force you to get some sort of license to sell food. No matter how much it makes sense, he’s still bitter.

The night shift guy will certainly show up any minute now, and he prepares himself to go back home and finish up for the day.

After a few more minutes of waiting around, his replacement walks in and makes a face. Oh, he guesses he must still smell like garbage. At least he finally got an answer to the age-old question; yes, you do get used to the smell of potent trash. Making a mental note to take a shower, he leaves the office and teleports back to his room.

He drops onto the ground and sticks his hand under his bed. Pulling an old briefcase out from underneath, he unloads the vials and conduit. 

Taking them into the bathroom, he cleans out the tubes and prepares the device. Attaching the vials to the ports, he connects his magic to the interface and pushes.

After a few exhausting minutes, the vials are all filled with dark blue fluid. With shaky hands, he deposits the conduit back into the briefcase, and the filled vials in a plastic bag. Bringing them both back into his room, he kicks the briefcase under his bed.

Gathering up enough magic for a shortcut, he teleports to the default drop location. Taped to the underside of the dilapidated mailbox is a container containing new sets of vials and the money from the last drop.

He quickly hides the package in his hoodie pocket and slips the plastic bag into the mail slot.

Gathering up just enough energy for a shortcut home, he appears in his bedroom. He really should’ve taken a shower first, he thinks, because all he can even think about now is dropping into bed and passing out instantly.

Settling on just changing into clean clothes, he is barely under the covers before he shuts his eyes. In less than a minute, he’s sound asleep.


	6. the final exam

Tapping your pen on your desk repeatedly, you read the question again. It's hard to focus, and you find yourself nervous. You're only halfway through your final, and you try your hardest to stay engaged.

You're doing rather well, all things considered. Mentally thanking Sans for helping you study again, you fill in another multiple-choice question. Thinking of Sans, you discreetly scan for him among the sea of desks and tired students.

However weird you may think it is, ever since your original phone conversation you've been checking for him every few classes. You think he would be easy to spot, seeing as he's a skeleton, but you haven't actually been able to find him so far. Does he just never go to class or something?

Whether he shows up or not is none of your business, you reason. However, you're almost certain he would've at least came today. He doesn't seem like the person to just fail for no reason, especially when you've already seen firsthand the amount of work he's put into this course.

After writing a particularly detailed explanation of how particles behave in different gases, you set your pen down and try to mentally compose yourself. It doesn't help you skipped your morning coffee, either. That was a huge mistake.

You're snapped out of your daydream when you notice a familiar figure stand up and push in his chair. Holy crap, it's actually him! Feeling like you've spotted an urban legend, you watch Sans awkwardly leave the lecture hall.

Wait, is he actually finished? You're pretty sure you can't just leave without being done, so you assume that only makes sense. You notice he's the first one done, but from what you can gather of Sans' previous experience, it wasn't exactly a fair competition for the other students.

Throwing yourself back into work, you notice a few other pupils start to trickle out of the room. Almost an hour of hard work later, you add a few final touches and stand up.

Torn between being ecstatic that you've finished all your work required for your degree, and nervous that you actually might've messed something up, you walk out of the room, feeling strangely calm.

As you walk down the hallway, you reason that there's a very little chance you actually failed anything. Once you convince yourself of this, you start to mentally celebrate.

Your phone is already blowing up, so you assume some of your friends must be finished, too. Deciding to wait until you get outside to check your notifications, you walk towards the nearest exit.

Turning a corner, you see Sans sitting on a bench, using his phone.

“Oh, hey!”

Sans looks up, shutting off his phone's screen.

“hey, what's up kiddo?” He asks, grinning.

He looks happy to see you, and you end up smiling, as well.

“I'm finished University!” Another thought strikes you. “Also, you're actually here today! What's up with that, do you just not go to class? I checked a few times, but I couldn't find you.”

“that's great, i'm really happy for you.” He says, sounding sincere. You feel your face heat up. You don't notice him ignore your original question.

He seems to get an idea, and he starts to speak.

“listen, a few of my buddies and I are going to celebrate the end of the year at some bar. do you want to come?” He asks, sounding hopeful. “we're going to do it in a few hours.”

You really want to. After all, you've been wanting to get to know Sans better. Although, you don't want your friends to think you're just blowing them off... Ah, screw it. You can always hang out with them later.

You enthusiastically agree, and you both part your separate ways.

You walk back home with a skip in your step.

Entering your apartment, you shuffle to your room. From what you know of Josh's exam schedule, he's still writing right now. At least today you have an explanation for his absence, you think with amusement.

Getting a suitable outfit ready, you open your laptop and wait anxiously for Sans' to contact you.

Just over an hour later, your phone finally buzzes. Opening it a little too fast, you see Sans has texted you. He's asking if he can pick you up, and you type out an affirmation.

Switching into your outfit, you excitedly walk into the kitchen and get a glass of water. You're going to be drinking, so you assume you should also probably eat something before you go.

Opening the cupboard, you grab an old bagel and eat it plain. You probably should've had something earlier, but with the excitement from this and completing your classes, it slipped your mind until now.

Quickly brushing your teeth, you wait for Sans to arrive while sitting on the couch.

You hear a knock on your door and shoot up out of your seat.

You open the door.

He grins. “hey, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I'm excited! Where are we going, again?” You ask, stepping into the hallway.

He says the name of some bar you've driven by a few times, and you both lapse into light conversation. Once you get to Papyrus' car again, you both get in.

“I still can't believe your brother has a convertible.” You say, amazed. It's probably the best car you've ever ridden in.

“yeah, he always dreamed of owning one of these when we were kids. i remember this one time he found this car magazine at the dump. he wouldn't stop talking about it for ages.” He says, sounding nostalgic. “oh yeah, he also had this red race-car bed up until like a year ago.”

This makes you laugh, and you worry you've offended him. You notice he's chuckling too, and you relax.

You arrive at a relatively nice-looking human bar, and you hop out of the car. Falling into step with Sans, you both walk up to the door.

There's a bouncer here, and he asks for your IDs. You pull yours out, and you see Sans grab some sort of monster citizenship card. You both hand your identification to the bouncer, and he gives Sans a funny look.

Sans just smiles and shrugs, and he returns your cards and waves you in.

Once you're inside, you decide to ask him what that was about.

“What was up with the bouncer?” You ask.

Wordlessly, Sans retrieves his card again and hands it to you. In his photo, he's wearing a fake mustache and eyebrows.

Something about the situation strikes you as hilarious, and you laugh loudly, covering your mouth.

“What the hell? How did they even let you do that?” You ask, still shaking with laughter.

“i just showed up like that.” He says, laughing too. “i'm pretty sure they were too scared of offending me to ask if it was real or not.”

This makes you laugh even more, and Sans leads you to a table with a few other people. Sans tries to introduce you, and there are a few greetings. Though, for the most part, the table quickly goes back to their previous conversations.

Sans shrugs and sits down, and you sit in the seat beside him.

You and Sans both end up talking about the physics final, and you're ecstatic to learn that you did considerably better than you previously thought. Almost all the answers you were skeptical about turned out to be correct, at least according to Sans. You're snapped out of your conversation when a girl that you've seen a few times before comes back to the table with a tray of shots. She already looks drunk, and you mentally prepare yourself for the night. You can already tell that it's going to be hectic.

You and Sans both take one of the shot glasses off the tray, and you try to drink it in one gulp, but it goes down the wrong pipe and you sputter alcohol everywhere. Nobody seems to notice except Sans, and you see him shaking with mirth. Trying to make up for your mistake, you finish your first one on the second sip and grab another one.

Feeling the desire to salvage your dignity by proving you can drink an actual shot, you swallow it in one gulp on the first try. Sans jokingly congratulates you, and you end up laughing, too.

Sans ends up in a conversation with a few other people, and you accidentally stop paying attention. Feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol, you decide to get an actual drink that isn't just a shot. You hop up from your seat and go over to the bar. The drink menu is pretty complicated, and you're finding it hard to focus on the writing. Maybe you aren't as tolerant of alcohol as you thought, you think with a smile. You decide to just get a rum and coke.

Coming back to the table, you sit down beside Sans again. The conversation has progressed, and now he and another guy at the table have somehow moved on to the topic of physics. You barely understand a word they're saying.

You elbow Sans and the side. “Dude, do you seriously just talk about physics when you're drunk?” You ask jokingly. “You're such a nerd.”

“hey, i'll have you know that i am a very interesting person.” He slurs, chuckling. “would you rather me just make non-stop puns the whole time? because those are pretty much your only two options.”

You're definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, but he's sufficiently more drunk than you are, you notice.

“Oh my god, no. Please don't make any more puns.” You say, smiling.

“i think you're overestimating the  _ gravity _ of the situation.” He deadpans, staring you in the eyes.

“Nooooooo. Please, no more.” You say, but you're struggling not to laugh.

He grins. “ _ newton _ wrong with a few jokes though, right?”

“Oh my god, how do you do this?” You mumble, facepalming.

“i'm not sure, but my  _ theory _ is i'm being  _ stringed _ along by  _ forces  _ out of my control.”

A mischievous smile taking over your face, you respond.

“Sans, nobody appreciates this much puns just being throw  _ atom _ .” You say, struggling not to laugh halfway through your sentence.

You don't miss the way his eye-lights brighten, and the way his smile grows imperceptibly.

“wow, no way. i thought i was the only one. holy shit, we're  _ pun  _ pals!” He says, nudging your arm.

You break down laughing and drop your head against the table.

Despite what you say, you really do admire his quick-thinking. The sheer quantity and speed he can deliver his puns is definitely nothing to scoff at.

“this is amazing, kid. you don't even understand. we can just make puns back in forth for hours. doesn't that sound great?”

“Of course not! That sounds horrible!” You yell, only half-joking.

Sans laughs and speaks again.

“oh, i can already see it now. we could make papyrus so mad, you and i.”

“Oh, does he hate your puns, too? Maybe he and I could split some money for you to go to therapy.”

He laughs harder, and you end up chuckling too. Seeing an opportunity to shift the conversation to a place that is more meaningful, you take it.

“Do you have any other family? What do they think about your punning?” You ask.

An imperceptible shadow crosses his face. “no, it's just me and paps.”

Wow, maybe you shouldn't have asked that. His reaction isn't obvious, but he didn't sound very enthused to answer that question.

Should you apologize? “Oh. I'm sorry?”

“don't be. we've got a lot of friends, so it's not like we're lonely or anything.”

Trying to get away from the topic of family, you decide to ask about his friends.

“Oh yeah? Are any of them monsters?”

“oh, for sure.” He says, grabbing another shot.

Concerned for his... skeleton liver, you watch in mild amusement as he drinks it in one gulp.

“you should see the gyftmas party we have at tori and asgore's every year, it's crazy.”

Something about the second name strikes you as familiar, and you try to remember where you've heard it.

“Wait. Do you mean Asgore as in the King of Monsters, Asgore?” You say, eyes wide.

“yeah. nobody treats him like human royalty, though. we all used to call him king fluffybuns, back underground.”

This causes you to snort.

“Huh. pretty sure if you did that to a human king back in the olden days they would hang you. or something.”

“yeah, people always think it's weird that we're still a monarchy. i guess back before the war, most nations were, so we just went with it.” He says. “plus, everybody loves that guy. if anybody actually wanted a voting system, he would've probably helped us set one up.”

You grin. “Wow, he sounds like a good king.”

“yeah, he's pretty decent.” He says, but there's a hint of discomfort in his voice.

Noticing that your drink is empty, you walk back over to get it refilled. As you're standing at the bar, you notice the table has gotten decently loud. You can hear them pretty clearly from over here.

The girl who got the last round of shots shows up beside you and orders another tray of drinks.

The bartender hands you back your glass, and you shuffle back to your table.

A few minutes later, the girl comes back and places down the tray.

It sits in the center of the table menacingly, and you pale. You don't really want to end up embarrassing yourself, but Sans is already drinking another one, and you want to level the playing field, a little bit.

You sit beside him and grab another shot. Drinking it, your face scrunches up and you cringe. These ones are much stronger than the last ones, you note.

Sans is talking to somebody else again, so you drink a few more shots. You may have made a mistake because a little while later, you're pretty much wasted.

You notice the staff is setting up the karaoke stage, and one of the girls at your table tries to pull her boyfriend up to sing.

Oh, you can't wait. Watching people embarrass themselves is easily one of your favorite pastimes.

You nudge Sans' arm.

“Sans! They're setting up karaoke!” You say, smiling.

“what?” He turns around in his seat and looks toward the stage. “oh shit, we should sing that rick astley song. what's it called again?”

“Huh? You're not supposed to sing! You're just supposed to watch other people and laugh when they mess up!” You whine, sounding completely serious.

Sans chuckles at that, turning back around to his normal position. You end up idly playing with your straw for a few minutes until you see Sans hop up and walk over to the bar. He talks with somebody for a second and comes back to his seat.

“Oh god, did you order more drinks?” You slur, trying to make yourself sound less drunk than you actually are.

“don't worry about it.” He says, looking smug.

What the hell is he up to now?

You notice the karaoke stage is finally done being set up, and you excitedly wait for the first person to go.

You hear the speaker make a fizzing noise, and the microphone starts working. The person speaking greets the bar and explains what karaoke is for the one person that doesn't already know. They peek at a paper list and read out the first song.

“Our first singers today will be singing 'Never Gonna Give You Up', by Rick Astley.” They say, already sounding bored.

There's a small chorus of chuckles and groans throughout the bar. You turn to Sans.

“Hey, somebody's singing the song you were talking about!” You say, a little too loud.

He just grins at you.

You gape. “No. Oh my god, you didn't.”

He stands up.

“Oh my god, you did.” You say, sounding horrified.

“c'mon, get up.” He says, looking insufferably smug. “you heard what they said. we're doing a duo.”

Staring at him with a look of terror on your face, you scowl.

“Are you kidding!? Not cool, Sans.” You deadpan, staring him down.

He laughs, lightly grabbing your arm. You still don't budge, and his smile dampens.

“you don't really have to if you don't want, though.” He adds.

You really don't, but the look on his face is starting to make you feel bad.

You begrudgingly stand up.

“This is evil. I can't believe you did this to me.” You say, but you're both already shuffling over to the stage.

You and Sans both step into the light, and they hand you a single microphone. Fantastic. As if the embarrassment from singing “Never Gonna Give You Up” in front of an entire bar wasn't enough, he nudges you right against him so it picks up both your voices.

The music starts, and you already feel yourself regretting your decision. Sans sings the first line with a comically bad impersonation of Rick Astley, and you give him a scathing look. He puts the microphone in front of you, and you deadpan the second line. You hear scattered laughter, and Sans pulls the microphone back in front of his mouth and sings the next few lines. Despite your embarrassment, you find yourself hiding a smile.

You say the next line while trying not to laugh, and Sans gives you an encouraging smile. He gets to the chorus, and you see a few people in the crowd roll their eyes. Suddenly determined to annoy the bar more than you already have, you actually sing the lyrics the next time he hands you the microphone. After a few lines, he starts singing again.

Surprisingly, a minute or two later, you're actually having some fun. You get to the chorus again, and you both sing it together. Trying not to dissolve into laughter, you sing the last few lines. For added embarrassment, Sans finishes the song by doing jazz hands. This pushes you over the edge, and you end up guffawing as the crowd politely applauds. You notice the people at your table think it's hilarious, too.

Scurrying off stage, you get back to your seat. Sans has a light blue flush on his face as he sits down, and he's still laughing. Now that you actually pay attention to it, it's pretty adorable looking. Who knew that skeletons could blush? Or at least, skeletons can flush because they're drunk, which you figure is pretty much the same thing. Thinking about it harder now, why are skeletons even able to get drunk in the first place?

He looks like he's about to say something, but you cut him off.

“How are you able to eat or drink?” You ask, staring him down with growing confusion.

He looks blindsided for a second but quickly starts to speak.

“well, first i open my mouth, right? then i-”

You cut him off. “No, I mean... you're a skeleton? Where does it go?”

He looks amused, so you figure it's okay you're asking this.

“i just sort of use my magic to absorb it.” He says, as if it's the simplest thing ever.

“How can you taste, then? Do you have a secret skeleton tongue or something?” You ask, jokingly.

Without skipping a beat, Sans stares into your eyes and sticks out a blue, semi-translucent tongue. Your face looks like a combination of amazement, horror, and disgust and his expression cracks and he starts laughing.

“oh my god. your face.”

Still shocked, you don't even manage a response. Wait... if he has a tongue... does that mean he ha-

Sans cuts off your thoughts by waving a hand in front of your face. “kiddo? are you still in there?”

“Yes. I just can't believe it. I never would've guessed.” You say, completely serious.

This causes another round of laughter, and you're smiling, too.

Sans starts talking to somebody else, and you idly fiddle with your straw for a while. You don't know anybody else here, and you're too drunk to even attempt to try talking to anybody new, so you don't have much else to do.

You check your phone and notice it's after midnight. Wow, you've been a lot longer than you thought. Looking at Sans, he still seems like he's still having fun. Well, you're pretty sure he wouldn't have driven home this wasted, anyway. You can probably walk home alone.

It'll only take like twenty minutes, probably.

You nudge Sans. “Hey, I'm going to walk home. It's been really fun though, we should hang out more.” You say, smiling at him.

He stands up. “no, i got a better way. come with me.” He says, walking towards the exit.

Confused, you follow after him.

He coaxes you into an alleyway behind the bar, and you hesitantly follow after him.

“What the hell are we doing in an alleyway?” You ask.

“alright. i'm gonna do something, here.” He slurs. “you can't tell anybody about this.”

“Uh... what?” You ask, looking at him funny.

“yeah, that sounded weird. uhh... just come here for a second and wrap your arms around me.”

Is he really suggesting what you think he is? And in an alley, too? What the hell do you even say to that?

“Whoa, okay. Sorry, you're a great guy and all, but I don't think I really like you like th-”

“what? no! that's not what i meant!” He says, light blue dusting on his cheeks.

Your face heats up as well, and you look away. Alright, you guess that's not what he meant, then.

He mutters something under his breath. “just close your eyes for a second, alright?”

You nod, and he grabs both your arms.

The ground gets pulled out from underneath you, and you immediately feel your stomach lurch. Rapidly opening your eyes, you stare past Sans' head into infinite blackness. What the hell is going on? Just as you begin to internally panic, you're standing in your living room. You're amazed for a split second, but before you can properly react, your stomach violently lurches, and you realize you're going to vomit. Face paling, you rush to the bathroom and burst through the door. You're barely over the sink before you throw up.

Sans stands in your living room, looking dumbfounded.

“oh, shit. i probably shouldn't have done that while you were drunk.”

Trying not to feel too embarrassed at the fact he just heard you vomit, you rapidly respond.

“How the hell did we get home?” You ask, confused. “Was that teleportation?!”

“wow, you sound really excited for somebody that just emptied their stomach into the sink.” You hear him call, sounding amused.

Trying not to blush too much, you freak out again. “You can teleport!” You say, eyes shining. “How does that even work?”

“heh. it's mostly magic, but there's some science behind it, too.” He says, sounding contemplative. “you can't tell anybody, ok?” He adds.

“Alright, I won't.” You say, still smiling.

You want to ask him more about how it works, but you're incredibly tired, and still kind of covered in vomit. Sans awkwardly departs after you say your goodbyes, and you find yourself alone in the bathroom.

Brushing your teeth and drinking a glass of water, you stumble over to your room. Taking off your dirty clothes, you get under the covers.

Still amazed that Sans can literally freaking teleport, it takes you longer to fall asleep than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for 80 kudos! When I posted the first chapter, I wasn't sure I was going to have to motivation to keep posting. I just want you all to know, every time you leave kudos, every comment you post, it all gives me the drive to keep writing. Thank you.
> 
> Sorry if Sans was a little OOC here, I just figured with the happiness of finishing his first year + the alcohol, I could write him a little different. He'll be more normal in the next few chapters.


	7. the hangover

You wake up with a headache pounding inside your skull. Your limbs feel like they’re filled with lead, and when you open up your eyes, your vision is assaulted with blinding light. What the hell? You must have gotten really drunk last night if you forgot to turn them off before you went to bed.

Squinting against the brightness, you hop out of your bed and pull the switch near your door. You sigh and drop back into bed.

You smile as you remember the previous night. You had drunk much more than you originally planned, and now you aren’t quite able to remember how you got home. In fact, the most you remember about the entire end of the night was singing karaoke and throwing up in your sink. 

You also distinctively remember Sans with a blue tongue, but the thought seems too ridiculous, so you pass it off as some sort of weird drunken dream or misunderstanding.

You grab your phone off your nightstand and open it to check the time. It’s already well after lunch, and you groan. For you, this is the worst part of drinking. Not the hangover, not the many times you’ve made a fool out of yourself, but destroying your sleep schedule for days to come.

Even worse, with your classes finished, you don’t have a real reason to fix it, either. Next thing you know, you’ll probably end up waking up after the sun is already down. The thought motivates you into pulling yourself out of bed.

Pulling on some clean clothes, you open your door. Your head is still killing you, so you shuffle over to your small medicine cabinet and grab an aspirin, and down it with some water.

You distantly notice you can hear your roommate typing on his computer. You guess that means he’s actually here today.

Deciding on taking a hot shower and then eating something, you open the bathroom door and turn on the water.

The steam helps clear up your headache a little bit. After using all of your shower related goops, you get out and pat yourself down.

As you go to brush your teeth, you try not to be too mortified at the fact that traces of your little vomit-related incident are still there. You quickly soap down the sink and brush your teeth.

Putting on your clothes, you leave the bathroom feeling refreshed. Your headache is mostly gone, and you go into the kitchen. You really don’t feel like cooking anything, so you debate going out. Before you can make a decision, you hear your phone ringing in your bedroom.

You open the door and grab it off your nightstand. It’s your mom, and you take a deep breath before you press the accept button. You know it’s not her fault, but getting her call is already dredging up long-dead fake-boyfriend related anxiety.

You force yourself to sound cheerful. “Hey, mom!”

Your mom enthusiastically greets you, and you both exchange the default pleasantries. She congratulates you on finishing your exams, and you begrudgingly listen to her talk about her neighbor Lisa for a while.

“Most of the family is coming down in a few days to celebrate you finishing University. You should bring Sans, don’t you think?” Your mom says, sounding hopeful.

You’re at a point in your pseudo-friendship with Sans where you feel like you could probably ask him without much trouble. Although you aren’t exactly thrilled to continue lying to your parents about this, you’ve already come so far. It seems counter-intuitive to come clean now.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll ask him later.”

You’re feeling strangely calm about the whole ordeal, and you and your mom continue chatting. Surprisingly, you actually end the call with a smile on your face.

Scared that if you wait you’ll end up getting nervous, you open your contacts and call Sans.

The line rings a few times, and he picks up.

“hey.”

You’ve almost forgotten about the night before, but hearing him sound so tired has reminded you.

You wince. “Oh, sorry if I woke you up.”

“no, it’s fine. why’d you call? did you need me to hear you vomit again?” He says, but there's an obvious note of humor in his voice.

You groan. “Oh my god. You were there for that?”

He starts to say something but cuts himself off. “uh, yeah. i walked you home, remember?”

You really don’t, but you say you did anyway and move on to the actual reason you called.

“Well, my parents and extended family all want me to come over for some sort of graduation party thing.”

He chuckles. “let me guess, they also couldn’t get enough of your amazing boyfriend?”

“Well, of course.” You grin. “‘Maybe not ‘amazing’, though. You make too many puns for that.”

“my puns are clearly the most amazing part of me. we might have to fake break-up if you can’t see that.”

He’s joking around with you, and you assume the odds of him agreeing are probably good.

“Yeah, yeah.” You say. “Anyways, It’s this Sunday. Do you think you could come?”

“for sure. i like being your fake-boyfriend.” He jokes, but there’s a hint of affection in his voice.

Trying not to think too hard about why this makes you blush, you smile.

“Wow, thanks.” You drawl, but you can’t help yourself from sounding grateful when you say it.

He chuckles, but then there’s a tense silence. You’re still a little embarrassed, but before you can convince yourself to say something, he responds.

“well. i have to go to work, but i’ll call you on sunday. or something.”

You both say goodbye, and he hangs up.

Aside from the puzzling ending to the conversation, it went pretty well. Smiling to yourself, you turn off your phone and place it on your bed.

You remember you still haven’t eaten, but you don’t feel particularly hungry anyway.

You have a distant feeling this is still a bad idea, but you can tell your parents like Sans, so you figure it’s not that big of a deal. Also, even considering he’s your fake-boyfriend, you both get along well. If worst comes to worst, you can just be amazing friends who pretend to be dating every once and a while. For the rest of your life. Sure, that makes perfect sense.

You definitely still wish that you didn’t get into this situation, but it isn’t every day that your stupid mistakes actually make you new friends, so you guess you can be grateful, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks for 100 kudos! I know I already wrote something about kudos last chapter, but I really figured I should say something. Thanks for reading.
> 
> I know this chapter is really short, so sorry if anybody was disappointed. If it's any consolation, the story will start to pick up from here.


	8. the handle

Leaving your room, you walk over to the bathroom. You’re reaching for the handle, but before you can grab it, the front door slams open.

You shriek and lose your footing. The lack of control and leftover momentum takes your whole body weight soaring straight into the door handle.

You feel the door shift, and you immediately right yourself. Scowling, you swing your body towards the entrance. Your roommate is standing there, looking surprised.   
  
“Could you be any louder when you come in?!” You question, sounding exasperated.

  
“Oh. I forgot you were done with classes.” He says, looking awkward. “Sorry.”   
  
You turn back around. You grab the handle and try to pull the door open. Confused, you pull even harder. When nothing happens, you jiggle the handle and pull as hard as you can. The door creaks, and you look back at Josh, frowning.   
  
“Great. Look what you did.” You deadpan, and you see him trying not to laugh.   
  
“It’s not funny!” You say. Is he really getting a kick out of this? “I have to pee.”

He walks over and tries to yank it open. Nothing happens. He tries again, and this time, it looks like he’s really trying. Either the door is really strong, or you’re both really weak. He steps back, and it still isn’t open.

“What the hell?” He mumbles. “How did you even manage to do that?”   
  
“ _ Me? _ You may as well have just pushed me right into it. I was completely blindsided.” You say, feigning indignation.   
  
He grins. “Oh, because I opened a door? Sorry, that’s definitely my fault.”

“More liked  _ slammed  _ a door.” You grumble.

He’s jiggling with the knob again, and you roll your eyes.

“Maybe we can just kick it in, or something?”   
  
“No, it swings inwards.” You say, sounding bored. “Plus, the frame sticks out a little bit, so you’ll just end up breaking it even more.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s just stuck. My guess is the lock probably broke off inside the actual… mechanism… thing.”

You still really have to pee.   
  
“What, so we just don’t have a bathroom anymore?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, instead deciding to look contemplatively at the door as if it was the most complicated problem he’s ever faced.   
  
His eyes light up.

  
  
Without saying a word, he walks into his room. You look after him, confused. He comes out with a screwdriver, and you realize what he’s doing.   
  
You watch him unscrew the handle with newfound hope, and after a few seconds, he just yanks it out of the door. The locking mechanism comes with the handle and gets stuck on the hole. You can see it’s warped as it slides out of place.   
  
He turns to you, grinning. “See? You broke the lock.”   
  
He pulls it out and pulls the door open.

“Yeah, we didn’t need that lock anyway. Clearly.” You say, rolling your eyes. “And this big hole is just what we were missing, too.”

“Oh, whatever.” He says, sounding dismissive. “We’ll get it fixed soon.”

Still slightly annoyed, you finally enter the bathroom and do your business.

  
After you’re done, you slide past the broken door and drop on to the couch. Josh is back in his room, and you try to pay attention to the TV. It’s on the news channel, but you aren’t able to stay focused long enough to understand what’s going on.   
  
You’re not a generally obsessive person, but the massive hole in the door is really bugging you. Maybe if you lived alone it wouldn’t be, but this is certainly a very serious problem.

  
  
Making up your mind, you jump off the couch.   
  
As an afterthought, you yell to your roommate that you’re leaving.

You don’t have a car, but you distinctly remember seeing some sort of hardware store on your way from here to your university. You walk  _ there _ every day, so you assume this will be fine.

You set off in the direction of the hardware store without even bothering to open your phone’s GPS.

You walk for about five minutes before you get to a relatively big and empty parking lot. There are not very many people here, but you can still see a few cars. There’s an SUV or two, but you also distantly notice a pretty decent sports car on the other side of the lot.

You go up to the door and push inside. You’re hit with a wall of warm air, and you walk towards the back. You don’t really want to have to ask anybody for help, but you don’t know where you’re supposed to buy a door handle. Do hardware stores even sell what you’re looking for?

You awkwardly roam the aisles until you find yourself standing near a small selection of “door hardware”. You’re browsing the limited selection of handles when somebody bumps into you. You stagger forward and quickly right yourself. Slightly embarrassed that you managed to move from just a little bump, you turn around.

“OH, SORRY MISS!”

Oh, you guess this must be Papyrus. If the picture you’ve seen before really was Sans with his brother, then this is definitely him. Not only is he much taller than you, but he also talks  _ very  _ loudly. You remember Sans mentioning he types in all uppercase. Well, he must talk in all uppercase too, you think with amusement.

He’s still smiling, but he looks slightly uncomfortable. “UH. I KNOW I AM VERY GREAT, BUT USUALLY, PEOPLE ARE SUPPOSED TO TALK WHEN THEY STARE AT YOU.”

Once again, you’ve unintentionally been rude to a monster you’ve just met. Your record for these kinds of things is pretty terrible.

You cringe. “Sorry! I was just surprised. You’re Sans’ brother Papyrus, right?”   
  
You think he looks blindsided, but he definitely isn’t as expressive as his brother. In fact, he looks much more like an actual human skeleton than Sans, but still in a way that doesn’t make him look creepy. You aren’t sure how that works.

“WOWIE, YOU ALREADY KNOW WHO I AM! I’M FLATTERED! I THINK! IT’S A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, MISS…?”

You tell him your name, and he vigorously shakes your hand. You’re trying not to laugh because you don’t know if he’d be offended, but the way he talks is just very funny, intentional or not. He seems very easy to get along with, either way.

After a few seconds too long to be comfortable, he lets go of your hand and stands back up to his full height.

  
“SO, HOW DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER? ARE YOU ONE OF HIS FRIENDS?”   
  


Unsure if you qualify as Sans’ friend, you decide to play it safe. “Uh, we go to the same university. He also went with me to dinner at my parent’s house a couple of weeks ago.”   
  
“OH, YOU’RE HIS GIRLFRIEND!”

  
“What, n-”   
  
“YES, HE TELLS ME YOU TWO AREN’T TOGETHER, BUT I’M PRETTY SURE HE’S LYING.”

Oh no, not this again. You should definitely clear this up before it becomes another problem.   
  


“We’re not together. It was this big misunderstanding with my parents.” You say.   
  
“THAT’S WHAT HE SAID TOO… I THOUGHT HE LIKED YOU THOUGH.” Papyrus says, sounding contemplative. ”HE SEEMED REALLY HAPPY AFTERWARD?”

The thought makes you inexplicably embarrassed, and you stammer. “No. We’re just friends.”

“THAT’S OKAY!” He says, but he looks awkward.   
  
God, only he could make you feel guilty for being honest. Well no, that’s not true, but he’s very good at it.

“So… What are you doing in a hardware store?” You ask, trying to change the topic.   
  
His face lights up again. “I’M BUYING MATERIALS FOR MY PUZZLES!”   
  
You glance at his cart. There are some very questionable things there, but you guess that kind of makes sense.   
  


“Oh. Cool?”

“YES, IT IS VERY COOL.” He seems to get an idea. “IN FACT, WHY DON’T YOU COME OVER FOR DINNER TONIGHT AND I CAN SHOW YOU SOME OF THEM?”

Okay, that was a little out of the blue. You give him a funny look.   
  
“Sure.” You say, trying to sound normal. “Will Sans be there?” You ask, as an afterthought.

His smile grows imperceptibly.   
  
“ABSOLUTELY! WE CAN ALL SHARE IN OUR MUTUAL FRIENDSHIP! IT WILL BE FANTASTIC, DON’T YOU THINK?”

“Um… Yes?” You say, still confused.   
  
Grabbing a piece of paper, he quickly scribbles out some sort of address or phone number, hands it to you, and practically runs away.

Okay, that was pretty weird. Normally, a guy you’ve known for two minutes asking you to dinner would be a definite refusal, but Sans will be there, and Papyrus is very clearly harmless. Plus, sharing in ‘mutual friendship’ doesn’t exactly scream romantic intentions.

Still feeling slightly perplexed, you grab a suitable door handle and walk to the counter. Holding it awkwardly, you just handle.   
  
Getting a bag for one item seems unnecessary, but you don’t really want to walk home holding a door handle in your hand like some kind of psychopath.

You leave, and before you know it, you’re back at the door to your apartment building. Walking in, you take the stairs back up to your floor. You push into your apartment and walk over to the bathroom door. Realizing you don’t have any tools, you roll your eyes and drop the bag on the carpet.   
  
It’s Josh’s fault anyway, so you’ll just leave it here for him to fix. In all honesty, now that you actually have plans, installing a door handle doesn’t seem very fun or important right now.

Dropping onto the couch, you pull out the paper Papyrus gave you and your phone.

And… It’s chicken scratch. You giggle. You figure you can just message Sans.

You tell him Papyrus invited you for dinner, but you don’t know where he lives.   
  
A few minutes later, he responds with an address and a time to be there.

Okay, you guess you’re really going over there. It seems weird to do this only two days before you and Sans go to your parent’s again, but it’ll probably be fine. You’ve probably been to more dinners since you’ve met Sans than you have in years, you think with amusement.

Idly wasting time on your phone and laptop for an hour or two, you finally think it’s an acceptable time to go over. Sans offered to pick you up again, and now you’re starting to regret declining. You’re not even sure why you did in the first place.

You knock on your roommate’s door.

He cracks it open.   
  
“Hey. What’s up?” He asks, looking confused.

  
  
“I bought a new door handle.” You say with a grin. 

You’re not sure how effective it will be, but he’ll probably be more likely to do you a favor if you mention the fact you’ve recently done something useful.   
  
“Okay?” He asks, still looking confused.

  
  
“Can you drive me somewhere?”   


He rolls his eyes and leaves his room.   
  
“Why? Where are you going?” He asks, but he’s already grabbing his coat.

You follow him out of the apartment.

“You know my fake-boyfriend?” You ask. “Well, his brother named Papyrus invited me over for dinner at their house.”   


  
“Oh, that sucks. Does he also think you’re both dating?”

  
  
“What? No.” You say. “I think he wants us to get together though.”

  
  
He gives no answer besides a hum, and you both get into the beat-up car.

As you’re pulling out of the parking space, he goes to talk again.

  
  
“What’s the address?” He asks.

  
  
You tell him, and he looks surprised.

  
  
“Oh, they live near the mountain. I didn’t know you were scamming me into driving you all the way across town.”

  
  
Trying not to laugh, you look at him sheepishly.

  
  
“They’re monsters. It’s not my fault they live near the mountain.”

  
  
“Oh, cool. Where’d you meet them?” He says, his tone clipped and flat.

“Uh. Well, I just met Papyrus today at the hardware store.” You say, looking at him funny. “His brother was in my physics class.”

  
He drops it, and you both sit in relative silence the whole way there.

He pulls into the driveway.

“Thanks. Sorry for making you do this.”

“No, It’s fine. Do you need me to pick you up?” He asks, sounding bored.   
  
“I’ll be okay. Bye.”   
  
You hop out of the car and close the door.

You walk up to the front door and watch Josh pull away.

Awkwardly knocking on the door, you stand and wait for it to open. The knob turns, and Sans is standing there.

“Oh! Hi.” You cringe.   
  
You really didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but you figured Papyrus would answer, seeing as he invited you here.

“what’s up, kiddo? come on in.”   
  
You wordlessly follow him into the house. The exterior was pretty normal, but the interior is actually pretty nice. It’s bigger than you thought from the outside. What did he say Papyrus did, again? They both must make decent wages, judging by Papyrus’ car and where they’re living.

“uh, by the way. i know papyrus can come on a little strong. so if you don’t want to be here or something, you can go. it’s fine.” He says, sounding uncomfortable   
  
“Dude, it’s fine. He’s pretty cool, it just seemed a little out of the blue.”   
  
He gives you a meaningful look.   
  
“what do you mean, ‘out of the blue’?”   
  
“Well, we were actually talking about you, and then he mentioned something about his puzzles, and said I should come to see them.”   
  
“oh no.” He says, dropping his head into his hands.   
  
“What? What’s wrong?” You ask, concerned.   
  
“alright, i think he’s probably got it in his head that we should be dating.”

You give him a look.   
  
“Are you sure? Why in the world would he- Oh.” Thinking back on the conversation now, you’re not sure how you missed it. That would explain the random dinner invite, too. Did he only offer this to try to get you two together?

“yeah. anyway, if he brings up something about dating manuals or forces us to sit close together, that’s probably why. sorry.”   
  
You feel like you should probably be mad, but you can’t bring yourself to feel anything negative towards Papyrus. He’s just too nice. Even though he turned out to be conspiring against you.

You and Sans walk into the kitchen, and Papyrus is already sitting at the table.

“HELLO, NEW FRIEND! HOW NICE OF YOU TO COME!” You wince. 

Wow, okay. You guess you must have repressed how loud his voice was. Either that, or the kitchen just echoes more than the hardware store. Sans seems unphased.   
  
“Hi, Papyrus. Thanks for having me.” You mumble, still dreading what he has planned for you and Sans.

You walk over to the table. It’s round, but that hasn’t stopped Papyrus from placing two chairs directly beside each other. There’s only one more chair at the table, and Papyrus is already in it. You walk closer, and notice that each open chair has a piece of paper taped onto it.

One of them says ‘SANS’ in all uppercase, while the other says your name.

You’re torn between wanting to laugh or cry, and you begrudgingly sit down.

Sans drags his chair a half-meter away, and sits down. His brother gives him a dirty look, but he just shrugs.

You feel inexplicably hurt, and you have to forcibly remind yourself that you’re  _ not  _ dating, and not wanting to sit right against somebody is a perfectly respectable thing, even if you were.

Papyrus and Sans look like they’re both having some sort of mental conversation as they continue to stare at each other. There's a beeping from the oven, and Papyrus hops up.   
  
“YOU’RE GOING TO LOVE THIS, HUMAN! MY FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI IS A HIGHLY COVETED DISH AMONG MANY.”   
  
He looks incredibly excited, but you admit to yourself that you’re a little scared of what he’s going to try and feed you. You give him the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, maybe he’ll be a good cook.

  
You nervously tap the table as Papyrus arranges spaghetti into three bowls. The silence between you and Sans is stifling, but Papyrus seems to be immune. You’re pretty sure he’s humming, over there.

Papyrus brings you a bowl.   
  
He was not a good cook. As you stare at your spaghetti in horror, you see Sans trying not to laugh. The meal looks simultaneously undercooked and burnt at the same time, and topped with what you pray is glue. There even seems to be  _ glitter  _ in it.   
  
You turn your baffled look towards Papyrus.   
  
“SANS, LOOK! YOUR GIRLFRIEND LIKES MY SPAGHETTI SO MUCH IT’S RENDERED HER SPEECHLESS!” You try to cut in and tell him you’re  _ not  _ Sans’ girlfriend, but he keeps talking. “SHE HASN’T EVEN TASTED IT YET AND SHE ALREADY LOVES IT!”

Sans is silently shaking with mirth, and you look back at Papyrus.

He looks expectant, and you try not to cry as you raise the fork to your mouth.   
  
The bite is crunchy and slimy in all the most disturbing ways, and you struggle to swallow it.

Trying to keep the disgust off your face as much as you can, you smile.   
  
“Wow Paps, that was delicious.” You lie.

  
Sans is still laughing, and you see Papyrus’ eyes practically sparkle.   
  
“REALLY? THANK YOU SO MUCH, HUMAN FRIEND!”

Before you can properly react, Papyrus throws himself across the table and pulls you into a bear-hug.

  
You wheeze as your airflow is violently disrupted, but you return the hug as much as you can.

Papyrus lets you go and climbs back into his seat. He looks genuinely happy. You figure the price for him to look like this was worth it, albeit barely.

You watch in horror as Sans and Papyrus both begin to legitimately eat the creation. What the hell? Maybe they can’t taste, you reason. They are skeletons, so you guess it sort of makes sense. It would also explain Papyrus’ cooking skills.

You still aren’t sure what to do about your portion of spaghetti, and you look for some way to discreetly get rid of it. Doing a double-take, you look back at your plate. Okay, you’re sure you didn’t eat that much. You only had a bite! You look at Sans, and he just winks at you. Wait, did he get rid of some? But how?

You’re confused, feeling sick, and still scared that Papyrus is going to find some way to embarrass you or Sans, so it’s hard to relax. You can tell Papyrus isn’t really sure of what to say, so Sans fills the silence by making horrible spaghetti and food related puns. Papyrus’ reactions to them make you crack up more times than you care to admit.

Eventually you space out as Papyrus and Sans banter, and you occasionally answer a few questions or laugh at a few jokes.

After Papyrus and Sans finish eating, and you finish having your food magically disappear, Papyrus announces that you’re all going to watch a movie. Sans gives you an apologetic look, but you aren’t really that bothered. It’s not like you have anything better to do.

You idly shuffle into the living room after Sans, and Papyrus jumps onto the couch and stretches out his whole entire seven feet, taking up the majority of the sofa. Oh no, he better not be doing what you think he’s doing. The only other place to sit in the living room is a sofa-chair next to the couch, and you watch in fear as Sans walks over to Papyrus.   
  
“hey bro, you think i could sit here?” Sans asks, his grin tight.

Papyrus fakes a look of contemplation before responding.

  
“IF YOU REALLY NEED TO.” He says, giving Sans a meaningful look.

There's a second of hesitation before Sans walks over to the loveseat, and drops onto the floor beside it.

You walk over to the chair, awkwardly floundering.   
  
“I’ll go on the floor, if you want.” You say.   
  
“nah, it’s fine, kid. you’re the guest.”   
  
Still feeling awkward, and now genuinely starting to get a little annoyed, you sit in the chair.

Papyrus puts on some weird movie about some sort of monster robot, but you’re too conscious of the situation to pay much attention. For his part, Papyrus looks genuinely engrossed in the story.   
  
Sans is sleeping, looking incredibly uncomfortable.   
  
After a few minutes of internal debating, you nudge his arm with your foot.

“Hey, you can come up here if you want.” You say, trying not to blush. “There’s enough room, and you don’t look very comfortable.”’

  
You scoot over for added emphasis. Once again, there’s a second of hesitation before Sans hops up onto the chair with you.   
  
You’re still feeling awkward, and Sans looks the same way. After a few minutes though, his apparent exhaustion seems to win out and he falls back asleep.

You relax. Apparently it’s easier to ignore an awkward situation when the other person is sleeping, you think with amusement.   
  
You actually decide to focus on the movie for a while, and you’re just about starting to vaguely understand what’s going on when Sans shifts in his sleep and leans into you.

You squeak, looking at Papyrus in alarm. Okay, it seems he hasn’t noticed. Either that, or he was nice enough to not make it obvious.

As you discreetly try to shift Sans off you, you distantly notice how warm he is. He must generate body-heat, which is surprising. He’s also really heavy, apparently. Giving up on trying to move him off, you resign yourself to your fate and try to get your heart-rate under control.   
  
It’s really not that big of a deal, and you feel silly for reacting so strongly. It’s not everyday some random dude just falls asleep on you, you reason.   
  
But he’s not really a random dude, is he? You’re at the point where you’ve talked with him enough that most people would consider him a friend. So you guess Sans is your friend, and you figure Papyrus is your friend, too. He definitely thinks so, at least.

That doesn’t really change much. It’s not every day your skeleton friend just falls asleep on you, either.

He sighs in his sleep and you force yourself to  _ not  _ notice how adorable it is, because you’re  _ not  _ dating. That would be a weird thing to think if you weren’t dating, which you  _ aren’t _ , so you don’t.

Finding it slightly more difficult to concentrate on the movie, you sit as still as you possibly can and try to watch. The credits come on screen, and you roll your eyes. It wasn’t that bad, but it was definitely very cheesy.

Papyrus peeks over the couch and flicks his eyes between you and Sans.   
  
Mercifully, he doesn’t mention it. “Did You Like The Movie, Friend?” He stage-whispers, but it still comes out louder than your talking voice.   
  
You smile. “Yeah, I really liked the costumes.” You say. “It was pretty entertaining.”

He beams at you before his eyes flick over to Sans again. He looks guilty.    
  
“Sorry If I Made You Uncomfortable. I Just Wanted You Both To Get Along.”    
  
You frown, looking down at his sleeping face. “It’s fine. We do get along, so you don’t really...” You trail off.   
  


“Yes, I Know. I Just Thought You Were Interested In Each Other.” He says.

  
Scared that if you talk too loud you’ll wake up Sans, you just smile at Papyrus and whisper.   
  
“And you just wanted him to be happy, right? I understand.” You pause. “You’re a good brother.”   
  


Papyrus beams. “WOWIE, THANK YOU, HUMAN FRIEND!” Papyrus says, abruptly returning to his original volume.

Sans jolts awake, and sits up.   
  
He looks embarrassed. “god, sorry. that probably wasn’t comfortable for you.”

You assure him it’s fine, and you all stand up and walk to the front door. Papyrus loudly encourages you to come back soon, and you agree. Sans awkwardly thanks you for being his pillow, and you depart, cheeks warm.

It’s only when you’re standing at the end of the driveway do you realize you don’t even have a ride home. Too embarrassed to go all the way back in and ask somebody to help you, you grab your phone to call a cab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I have no idea what the hell happened to the spacing in this chapter. The rich text editor is very annoying, but I need to use it to get italics to work. (It's either that or writing them in plain HTML, which I don't want to do.)
> 
> Thanks for 1000 hits! It's surprising how fast this grew, so thank you all for indulging my crappy fic.
> 
> The next chapter will have the family-visit, and I'm aware that all these awkward dinners are starting to get a little old. If I planned this out better it wouldn't be like that, but it's too late now.
> 
> The next chapter will be out in a few days!


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